Ali Badhboi and the 39 Thieves
by Runt Thunderbelch
Summary: Here's a nice bit of frivolity.  Ali Badhboi and his 39 thieves are coming to Anhk-Morpork to free their 40th thief, Tickles the elephant, from the city zoo.
1. Looking for Trouble

Ali Badhboi and the 39 Thieves

By

Runt Thunderbelch

Chapter 1: Looking for Trouble

"Good evening, Sarge."

Fred Colon gave a start. He'd been leaning up against one of the great stone hippopotami which lined the bridge connecting upscale Anhk with downscale Morpork. "Oh. Good evening, Nobby."

The horrific-looking little corporal, currently dressed in his civvies, grinned. "Beautiful night, ain't it?"

The sergeant of the City Watch smiled wistfully. "Ah Nobby, 'perfect' and 'Anhk-Morpork' are two words which a man rarely finds together in the same sentence, but tonight is a perfect night in Anhk-Morpork. Feel that breeze? She's a warm one, alright. Must be coming to us all the way from the deserts of Klatch. And listen: No screams, no glass breaking, no cries for help. Ten o'clock and all is well. How often have we said that and really meant it, eh?"

A sleek trading vessel glided silently beneath them as it headed upriver towards the docks.

Colon nodded at the civvies. "Where ya goin'?"

"To the Pink Pussycat Club, Sarge. My girl's performing there tonight. You ought to tag along sometime. She's really something."

"Can't Nobby. I'm a married man. But you, you rascal, you go have your fun. Off with ya now."

"Sure. Night, Sarge."

"Night, Nobby."

As the little man perambulated off into the darkness, Sergeant Colon luxuriated in the peaceful evening and gazed down at the silently gliding ship. The name on her stern was the 'Devil Wind.' Charming, simply charming. What a colorful name.

۞

Ali Badhboi and his 39 thieves were sailing the_ Devil Wind _up the River Anhk on a mission of revenge. Their fortieth member, the elephant Tickles, had been kidnapped by animal hunters and imprisoned in the Anhk-Morpork Zoo. They were coming to get Tickles back.

Sinwell the Sailor was on the quarterdeck in command of the ship. Redbeard was at the wheel. In the crow's nest, Amir the Corsair kept a look out. Amir had seen the fat sergeant stationed on the stone bridge, but had also seen that the Watchman had taken no real notice of them.

Down below in the wardroom, Ali Badhboi was holding an officers' meeting. "Sheik" Rattlenrol was in charge of the Klatchian adventurers. "Doc" oversaw the fugitive rogues from Ankh-Morpork. The various soldiers of fortune were commanded by Ferrari. Although the assassin Black Vulture was technically one of Sheik Rattlenrol's men, he'd been invited to attend. Crackers the Klatchian octorine parrot sat on his perch, cracking open sunflower seeds with his beak. Sloe Djinn Fez floated magically in the air. The Crystal of Katoosh glowed ominously. And the Carpet lay on the floor, keeping its mouth shut for a pleasant change.

"Magic Crystal," said Ali Badhboi, "show us the location of the city zoo."

The light from the Crystal of Katoosh changed colors and intensities. It was sitting directly on the Carpet, whose fibers began to waver and to re-weave themselves. As the thieves watched, a map of Anhk-Morpork began to slowly appear within the fibers of the Carpet.

Ali Badhboi pointed. "We'll tie the ship up approximately here. Then Doc, take your Anhk-Morporkians, fan out through these streets and make your way over to the zoo here. Note the locations of any City Watch stations, any patrols, or other obstacles which may present themselves. Black Vulture, you go over the rooftops to the zoo and note the same information. Crackers, you accompany Doc to act as messenger if necessary."

"Awk."

"Doc, your goal is to be as unobtrusive as possible, to locate Tickles within the zoo, to locate and identify any hazards our rescue party may encounter, and then to get back here safely, unobserved, and with the information we need. Do you understand?"

The gaunt man nodded.

"Sheik, your men will remain here and guard the boat.

"Ferrari, your men will also guard the boat but in addition, they will act as reinforcements to Doc's men if that becomes necessary. Any questions?"

Sloe Djinn Fez asked, "What about me, Master?"

"I have a special task for you. See me after."

"Your wish is my command."

"Crackers," Ali Badhboi said to the Klatchian octorine parrot as he pulled from inside his shirt an amulet forged around an apricot-sized thaumic crystal. "I may have to leave this ship. So if you need to find me, come to this amulet, not to the ship, understand?"

The parrot stared lustfully at the crystal. "I want it."

"Come to it later," said Ali Badhboi, "if Doc needs you to bring me a message."

"I want it."

Ignoring the parrot, Ali Badhboi slid the amulet back inside his shirt. "If there are no more questions, gentlemen and uh magical entities, then Doc, muster your men on the main deck and prepare to move out. Sheik, get your men to their guard posts. Ferrari, have your men get some shut eye. They may need it."

The parrot squawked, "Onwards and upwards," and fluttered over onto Doc's shoulder. The men rose and made their way topside. Sloe Djinn Fez floated over to Ali Badhboi.

"Yes, Master?"

Ali Badhboi slowly shook his head. "I don't trust a man jack of them. Tell me, is a djinni of your age still able to evaporate?"

"What do you mean by that?" snapped Sloe Djinn Fez.

"Well, you're over three thousand years old and - -"

"I don't feel a day over five hundred! I'm fine, fine."

"Okay great. Super. I need you to vaporize and to follow the Anhk-Morporkians. If you see anything suspicious, report back to me." He patted the front of his shirt. "Remember, come to the amulet, not to the ship."

The djinni bowed. "Your wish is my command."

Ali Badhboi looked down at the Carpet. "Nothing sarcastic from you?"

"Not at this time," replied the Carpet, "but I'm sure the opportunity will soon present itself."

As Sloe Djinn Fez wafted topside, Ali Badhboi made his way along the passageway to the owner's cabin. Klatch was a very conservative nation, with the women required to cover every inch of themselves humanly possible. Of course, for women in some professions, that rule was waived, and some of those professions paid extremely well.

Without knocking, Ali Badhboi opened the owner's cabin and went in. Sireen de Wowwow was shackled to the bulkhead and was firmly gagged. Her clothes were mostly azure gossamer, with only azure satin panties and halter to maintain her modesty.

Sireen was being guarded by Oh-Oh, the ship's monkey.

"She give you any trouble?"

"No, no," said Oh-Oh.

Ali Badhboi removed Sireen's gag.

"Ali Badhboi!" the young woman snarled. "You lump of worthless dog meat! I'll have you flayed alive! You'll be thrown into a scorpion pit and, while you writhe in agony from their stings, I'll have you disemboweled and forced to eat your own guts!"

"Good evening, Sireen. I hope you've had a pleasant voyage."

"Release me, camel dung, and I'll give you a running start before I sic mad dogs upon you!"

"Tsk, tsk. Such an attitude, and after I've been so kind to you. You know, for the use of your oh-so-lovely boat, you'll be compensated with a full share of the treasure."

"Treasure? What treasure? You're after an elephant!"

"Yes, an elephant . . . and a treasure. Oh, did I forget to mention the treasure earlier? How careless of me."

"You lying dung beetle! There is no treasure!"

"There most certainly is. I intend to make you a very rich woman."

"I already am a very rich woman!"

"Well then, I shall make you richer still." He slipped her gag back into place and kissed her on the tip of her nose. He waited for Oh-Oh the monkey to jump onto his shoulder, and then the two of them headed for the main deck.


	2. Move Out!

Chapter 2: Move Out!

As Ali Badhboi and Oh-Oh headed for the main deck, they passed the ship's cook, Vena the Raven-Haired. Perhaps generations before, she had been one of those hard-muscled barbarian beauties, but nowadays, she was nearly spherical with uncombable gray hair and rheumatoid arthritis.

"Sir, will the boys be back aboard in time for breakfast?"

"I don't know, Vena, maybe. Better have something ready for them in case the do."

"Aye aye, sir." She shuffled off towards the galley.

Up on the main deck, Ali Badhboi saw that Vena's oldest great granddaughter had the Annk-Morporkians lined up for inspection. Irene Ironfist had done most of the raising of Vena's 16 other great grandchildren, and she wasn't about to take any guff from this band of cutthroats.

"Let me see your hands. Let me see them!" she ordered Slick McGumm, who reluctantly complied. "Filthy! Go wash them, now! They'll be no adventuring until you men are presentable!"

Slick headed for the water bucket.

Next in line was Thug. (If he had a last name, he couldn't remember it.) "My hands are clean, miss, see?" He held them proudly out for her inspection.

"But did you brush your teeth?"

"Tooth, miss, tooth. I have just the one."

"And why is that, do you suppose? Go, get your toothbrush, and I want to see that tooth gleaming!"

He hurried away.

"Fingers LaFoote," she moaned the moan of the perpetually martyred, "comb your hair." Before he could move, she produced a comb herself and jabbed it into the tangled thicket and began to pull."

"Ow, miss, please!"

"Oh hush up!" She battled until she was satisfied.

Ali Badhboi came up beside her. "May my men carry out my orders now, please?"

Irene Ironfist rounded on him. "You're setting a fine example." She pulled out her hankie, spat onto one corner, and used it to attack a smudge of dirt that was on his cheek. "I know six-year-olds that groom themselves better than you men. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

There came a mumbled chorus of, "Yes, miss." There are few things in the multiverse that are as terrifying as a sixteen-year-old girl who knows she's right and who is not afraid to let you know that you are wrong in every conceivable way.

"Scarface Higgins, tuck in your shirt!"

"Yes miss."

"Lefty Wright, blow your nose. No no no! Not on your sleeve! Use a hankie!"

"I, I, I don't have one, miss," Lefty Wright stammered.

"Scarface, lend him one of yours, will you?"

"I don't got one neither, miss."

"No hankies? What kind of marauders are you?"

Eyes were downcast. Insteps were kicked. Mumbled excuses were mumbled.

"Black Vulture! Don't think I don't see you sneaking along in the shadows! Over here where I can see you, mister!"

"But miss," whined a voice from the darkness. "I can't come into the light. I'm in stealth mode."

"I . . . beg . . . your . . . pardon."

"I didn't say I wouldn't," blurted the Black Vulture, hurrying forward. "It's just, it's just - -"

"What," asked Irene Ironfist, "are you wearing?"

"My, my, my assassin's clothes."

"I thought assassins always wear black."

"Oh that, miss! Well, it's a common misconception, really. Few things in the world are truly black, and so black is not the perfect thing to wear as camouflage. It turns out a dark gray-green is something almost impossible for the human eye to focus on. It tends to, uh, slip away from one's gaze, so to speak."

Irene cocked an eyebrow. "So you think you're smart?"

"Well miss, I do have a degree."

"From the Assassin's Guild here in Anhk-Morpork?"

"Er, no miss. From a, uh, lesser institution in, um, a different city."

She nodded slowly. "I thought so." Then she bellowed, "Well? What are you all standing around waiting for? I thought you were off on some silly secret mission or something. Get going!"

Doc and Crackers, Fingers LaFoote, Lefty Wright, Slick McGumm, Scarface Higgins, Thug, and the Black Vulture grabbed their possessions, scrambled down the gangplank, and headed off into the darkness.

There were three main streets which lead away from the docks in the direction of the zoo. Doc along with Crackers and Slick McGumm took one of them; Fingers LaFotte and Scarface Higgins took the second; and Lefty Wright and Thug took the remaining street.

The Black Vulture found two walls which met at 90 degrees. He ran, jumped, and kicked off one wall, kicked off the second and grabbed the top of the wall. Silent as a cat, he pulled himself up. The night was clear and warm. He estimated the direction of the zoo and started off across the rooftops. Without warning, a stone arm was thrown around his throat.

"Ay I 'ee 'oar lize'ze, eez?"

"What?"

"'Oar azzazzung lize'ze. Etz zee i'!"

"But I'm no assassin."

"Uzt out 'or a zto' acrozz 'a roofto'z?"

"I'm a tourist."

"'Ooh 'av 'a righ' 'ooh 'e'ain zilen' . . ."

۞

Sloe Djinn Fez had watched out an open porthole as Doc and his contingent of Anhk-Morporkians had crept into the night. Now, it was time for him to follow them.

He seemed to grow, stretch and fade as if the same amount of him was being used to fill a much greater volume. For a djinni, turning from a solid to a vapor was not all that difficult. He continued to grow and fade, expand and fade.

When it was time, he poured himself out through the open porthole and wafted away from the ship. The stiff breeze coming up from the distant sea buffeted him, blowing him off course slightly as he tried to cross the wharf area. That was annoying. As a gas, so few things could touch him, but a little bit of breeze was one of them.

He continued to try to get back on track, to follow Doc and his men as ordered. But try as the djinni might to claw into the wind, his efforts were useless. He began to be turned head-over-heels, which would have been embarrassing if gases weren't invisible. He doubled his efforts, which made no difference in the slightest.

He glanced over what would have been his shoulder if he had been solid to get an idea where he was being blown. It was a place called the _Pink Pussycat Club._ A saloon? Well, this could be interesting.

The wind took him under doors, around window frames and into a smoky room filled with throbbing music, yowling men and underclothed women. The women were dancing and, for reasons which totally escaped Sloe Djinn Fez, spinning around aluminum poles. Coins were being tossed up onto the stage. Paper money was being slipped into Gee-strings. Drinks were on every table.

Sloe Djinn Fez blinked and looked again. Drinks were on every table. The drinks contained high amounts of ethyl alcohol. Alcohol had a low vaporization temperature, and so, even though human eyes couldn't see it, above every drink in the place hovered an intoxicating cloud of ethyl alcohol.

Sloe Djinn Fez slurped up these small clouds, making them part of himself. Cloud after cloud was absorbed, so that, by the time he got to the far side of the room, the only thing which kept him from staggering around helplessly was his lack of legs. He was blown into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, there was an oven. In the oven, there was a fire. Fire turns fuel and air into heat and smoke. The smoke goes up the chimney, and more air is drawn in to replace that which had been turned into smoke.

Slow Djinn Fez saw where he was being blown and didn't like it one bit. He imagined the fire would be painful. He tried to fight his way back out into the room where the half-naked girls were, but he was only a zephyr. Closer and closer to the flames, his rum-soaked cloud was driven until finally, he was drawn into the oven itself.

KABOOOOOOOOMMMM!

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Cough, cough! Wow, I got caught in the blast there. I just happened to inside the Pink Pussycat Club doing research for this story (and definitely not drinking and/or ogling the half-naked women) when BAMM!

I want to take a minute to explain what's going on with the gargoyle's dialect. Pratchett explains it's what comes from a mouth that is permanently stuck in an open position. That I understand. But then he translates the word "yes" into "egg." With my mouth open, I can pronounce the letter "y" and also the "s" although it sounds more like a "z." So I would translate "yes" into "yez," not "egg." In this story, I use my version of the translation rather than his, simply because I cannot figure out what he's doing. Sorry if I have offended anyone.


	3. We Had a Blast

Chapter 3: We Had a Blast

As off-duty corporal of the City Watch Nobby Nobbs approached the Pink Pussycat Club that evening, there was a tremendous explosion. Glass was blown out of the windows. Women screamed. Men shouted. The roof was lifted off the back part of the building, flew high into the air, turned a half summersault, and fell back down, landing with a crash.

His darling Tawnee was in there! Nobby rushed forward, only to have to jump back as a flaming assistant cook ran screaming out the front door.

The screaming assistant cook ran for the River Anhk to put out the flames. He reached the edge of the river. He jumped. He bounced. He looked around stunned to find that he was on top of the water - - and was still on fire. He began screaming again and rolled around to put out the flames.

City folk came running up.

From the _Devil Wind_, Ali Badhboi, Oh-Oh, and the ship's hunchbacked doctor Igor**(**1**)** came running down the gangplank and rushed over to help.

The rolling around had put out the poor man's flames (although in a couple of places, small fires still flickered from the water itself). He started back in, but of course, it was then that he started to sink. It was like slowly submerging into really thick quicksand.

"Help!"

Ali Badhboi was smart enough not to jump in the river himself. He looked around, found a coil of rope, and holding one end, threw it to the man. The assistant cook grabbed it, and Ali Badhboi started reeling the man in.

The rope began hissing, smoldering and dissolving.

"Pull faster! Faster!" shouted the assistant cook. Only the gods knew what this river water was doing to his pants.

Ali Badhboi pulled and pulled, and at last they got the man to shore. They'd barely helped him back onto firm ground, where he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Igor examined him. "He'th badly burned," the hunchback said. "I'll have to graft him with a new thkin. Doth anyone know if there'th a morgue nearby, or lacking that, a themetery?" 

۞

It was Sergeant Angua who took the booking report. "No assassin's license?"

The Black Vulture protested, "I don't need one! I'm just a tourist who was out for a late-night stroll."

"Across the tops of buildings? While dressed in black?"

"See? It's not even black! It's dark gray-green."

"That's even worse. Lance-Corporal Crestbeam-on-Hooper, show this gentleman to a cell."

"Wait! Wait. Maybe I do have an assassin's license. Let me check." He pulled out his wallet and began thumbing through the useless pieces of paper which gather and breed in there. "Ah, yes, here." He handed one over to Angua.

She glanced at it and then choked on a giggle. "Ephebe? What do assassins do there, strangle people to death with short lengths of twisted logic? Stab them in the heart with pointed arguments? Or maybe just plain talk them to death?" She fought to regain her professional attitude, but an Ephebean assassin was about as silly as a troll ballet dancer. Finally, she was able to gaze coolly at the card. "There are two problems with this membership card, Mr. . . . Black Vulture, if that's your real name. First, it was issued in Ephebe, not in Anhk-Morpork. And second, it's expired."

"Well, uh, er, um . . ."

Angua handed the card back. "Be glad our gargoyle caught you. If he'd had been a member of our assassin's guild, right now, you wouldn't be on your way to a jail cell. You'd be on your way to a coffin."

۞

Sloe Djinn Fez must have solidified while he was knocked out because, when he came to, the bony hand of a man helped him back up into a sitting position. The djinni felt so light headed.

He looked into the eyes of his rescuer, and found himself looking at a cowled skeleton holding a scythe. The eyes which looked back at him were like distant blue-white galaxies.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

I WORK HERE, replied Death.

"But I can't be dead. I'm, I'm an immortal!"

3,022 YEARS IS FAR FROM AN ETERNITY. I'M AFRAID THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO MOVE ONTO THE NEXT WORLD.

"And what am I supposed to do there?"

Death shrugged. ANYTHING YOU WANT.

"What?"

ANYTHING YOU WANT.

"Anything I want?" Sloe Djinn Fez goggled. "My wish is my command? Oh, why didn't I die sooner? Woo hooooo!"

۞

Amir the Corsair, spyglass still in one hand, swung down from the crow's nest and landed softly on the deck next to Sheik Rattlenrol. "By the Fanged Teeth of Offler, did you see that?"

"The whole place just exploded!"

"It must be the fury of Offler Himself! I understand that establishment was a den of the most grievous of sins."

Mica al-Moor, bin Dere-dun-Dat and Badi Badhbad came up behind them. "What kind of sins?" one of them asked.

"Scantily clad women cavorting, the drinking of fermented beverages, games of chance, and, dare I say it? - - the playing of music!"

The others shook their heads in disgust. "No wonder Offler destroyed it."

"Wait! There're some people still moving around in there. The great and merciful Offler must have, in His endless compassion, spared some."

"If He, in his great holiness, spared them, can we turn our backs on them?"

More Klatchians had come up behind them, Ali al-Khali, No-Fear Nimr and Jibbar Rich. "Never. We must obey the will of Offler."

Sheik Rattlenrol turned and shouted, "Hakim Hawkface, Big Wali, Kasbah Bill, come! We have a mission of mercy! Ferrari, gather your men! We turn guard duty over to you!"

Then Sheik Rattlenrol, Amir the Corsair, Ali al-Khali, No-Fear Nimr, bin Dere-dun-Dat, Badi Badhbad, Mica al-Moor, Jibbar Rich, Hakim Hawkface, Big Wali and Kasbah Bill all raced across the plaza towards the ravaged building.

Ferrari came out onto deck rubbing the sleep from his eye. "Hmmm? What?"

۞

"Excuse me, sir," said Reg Shoe. "What are you doing?"

"Me, thir?" asked Igor, shovel in hand, squinting up at the zombie officer of the Watch. The hunchback was standing about one-foot deep in a partially dug-up, freshly-dug grave.

"Are you grave robbing, sir?"

"Oh, not robbing, thir. Never robbing. I'm jutht borrowing, thir. Taking a little thkin, well all of it really, and thwithing it with thome damaged thkin. Thith fellow no longer hath need of hith, y'know, and there'th thith guy down by the river. . . By the way, do you happen to know if he'th a 38-regular? For thome reathon, themeterieth never put thizeth on grave thtoneth. I don't know why that ith."

"I think you should come with me, sir."

"But the man by the river."

"You are under arrest, sir."

"Arretht? Whatever for?"

"Attempted body snatching."

"An Igor doth not thnatch bodieth, thir. We thimply rearrange them."

"Very good, sir. Come along, please."

۞

Irene Ironfist went into the wardroom and began rolling up the Carpet.

"What are you doing?" asked the Carpet.

"You're filthy. I'm taking you up on deck where I can beat the dust out of you." She hoisted the Carpet up onto her shoulder.

"What? Are you crazy? Putmedown, kid! Putmedown! Putmedown! I'm going to fall! I'm going to fall!"

"You're a couple of feet off the floor, and I have you."

"Pleeeeease! I'm slipping! Slipping! Can't you feel me? I'm going to fall to my doom! Help! Helllllp!"

"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of flying carpet?"

"Me? Fly? Are you outta your mind! Put me down!"

She headed for the door. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Just plummeting to my death! I'm falling! Help! I'm falling! Falling!"

"You are not!"

"Someone save me! Help! Someone save me!"

۞

"Name?" said Angua, as she reached for yet another booking form.

"Igor."

Her eyes flickered up to find a badly-scarred guileless face smiling at her. "No last name, I suppose?"

"Don't be thilly."

"Er, how do you Igors ever tell one from another?"

"It'th eathy. It'th the thcarring. We're all unique."

"But you all have the same name."

"Ith that a problem?"

"For our files, yes." She glanced back down at the form. "Address?"

"13 Dethert Tomb Road, al-Khali, Klatch."

"Oh, so you're not from around here?"

"I wouldn't think tho, no."

"Any identifying marks - - let's get back to that one, okay? I'll need to get some more paper first. Um, offense?"

Reg Shoe spoke up. "Attempted body snatching."

"I wuth going to put everything back," grumbled Igor.

"But not where you found it."

"Well, whatever would be the point of that?"

1 "Doc" wasn't a medical doctor. People just began calling him "Doc" as a way of reminding themselves to never, ever play cards with him again. Ever.


	4. Escape

Chapter 4: Escape

"Oh yes! Spank me!" exalted the Carpet. "Spank me! Spank me! Spank me!"

Irene Ironfist let her rug beater fall. "Hey, I don't know whether this kind of thing is healthy for me. I'm only sixteen, y'know."

"What did you stop for? You must beat me!"

"Would you take a good look at yourself?" said the girl. "You're a flying carpet who's afraid of heights! You're into masochism in a way I don't want to even think about! You have some real issues!"

"Yes, I know," admitted the Carpet. "I know it's not right, that I've been bad. AND THAT'S WHY YOU MUST BEAT ME! Spank me some more! Yes, oh yes, spank me!"

Irene threw her rug beater into the air and walked away. "I truly cannot handle this."

۞

The door to the owner's cabin opened, and Ursa Beargrease stuck her head in. "'Scuse," she grunted. "I'm just on my way to bed, and I'm wonderin' if dere's anyt'hing you need first?" She was a great, thick woman with tree-trunk sized thighs and a tattoo on her arm boasting a heart and a banner which read, "Your name here $5."

"Mffmff gnnff," replied Sireen de Wowwow.

"Beg pardon?"

"Mffmff gnnff," said Sireen de Wowwow again.

"Ugh, I can't understand a single word you're sayin' wiff dat gag in yur mout'." She came over and untied the gag. "Now, wat were you sayin'?"

"Where's Ali Badhboi?"

"Oh, he left miss, along with that stupid monkey of his."

"Where'd he go?"

"Didn't say, miss."

"What about the Crystal of Katoosh? I suppose he took that with him."

"No miss. It's still down there in the wardroom."

"And the Flying Carpet?"

"Still afraid of heights, miss. Squeals like a pig if ya lift 'im more than a couple of inches off da floor."

"And the magic amulet?"

"I dunno noffin about no magic amulet. Never seen one. But my question, miss, is do you need anything before I turn in?"

"Yes, these manacles are beginning to chafe. Do you suppose you could loosen them for a few moments and let me get my circulation back?"

"Oh, I don't know, miss. No one told me I cud do dat."

"Did anyone say you couldn't?"

"Well, no miss. Dey didn't."

"There you go, then. They obviously left it up to your best judgment."

"Dey did, miss?"

"Oh yes, so go ahead. Or would you rather I lose both my hands when gangrene sets in? It'll be just for a few minutes."

"A few minutes? I guess dat wud be okay." Ursa waddled over to the nail on which the keys were kept, came back with them, and unlocked Sireen de Wowwow's manacles.

The pretty young woman almost gasped with pain as the blood began flowing through her wrists again. "May the gods bless you, Ursa," she said, right before she punched Ursa in the nose just as hard as she could.

The big woman took a step back. "What'd you do dat for, miss? I unlocked your manacles."

Sireen clasped both hands together and smashed them into the side of Ursa's face. Still no reaction. Sireen grabbed her coat rack and smashed it to splinters across Ursa's skull.

Finally a fist the size of a cantaloupe retaliated by crashing into Sireen's face, bouncing her off the far wall.

Sireen came stumbling back and head butted the other woman, uh, whose skull was about three times thicker than her own. Sireen gasped in pain and collapsed to her knees.

Ursa asked, "You gonna behave now?"

Sireen grabbed both of Ursa's heels and pulled hard. The big woman's feet were yanked out from underneath her, and she sat down hard on her coccyx.

Sireen leaped up, seized her gossamer azure veil from atop her dresser and ran from the room. She caromed along the passageways to the wardroom and burst through the door.

"Magic crystal!" she cried. "Where is the amulet?"

_Around Ali Badhboi's neck _answered an ethereal voice.

"And where is Ali Badhboi at this very minute?"

_Headed for the Thieves' Guild._

"Camel puke!" she swore. As she spun back towards the passage, she same face-to-face with Ivan the Mediocre, who had his pants pulled down halfway over his boots. Sam of Zambingo was in his rack with his pillow piled on top of his head. D'rabb the D'reg had nothing on but his loincloth. She'd forgotten that the wardroom is where these three men bunked. She realized she was nearly naked, hurriedly buttoned her gossamer veil (which made her feel much better), and fled the room, pounding up the ladder to the main deck.

The exit down the gangplank was blocked, for that was where Ferrari had stationed his two trolls, Slagheap and Limestone. She turned, bounced off the nasty-tempered, smelly camel named You Bastard and raced up onto the quarterdeck.

Sinwell the Sailor was still stationed there. He made a dive for her, but Sireen made a leap over his outstretched arm, got to the stern railing, climbed up and jumped off.

She almost twisted her ankle on the river when she landed. She stumbled in the sludge and waded across it as fast as she could for the shore. Once she got onto dry land, she took off running, hoping she could find some water with which to wash the river off of her.

۞

Lance-Corporal Detritus dumped Fingers LaFoote and Scarface Higgins, semi-conscious, onto the floor at Sgt. Angua's feet. "I arrested dese two for sleeping on de streets."

"We weren't sleeping," moaned Fingers. "We were mugged."

"Fingers!" gasped Scarface. "They stole all our money! Every pence we had!"

"Hmm," grunted Detritus. "No money? We better add vagrancy to de charges, too."

"It's not our fault, ya big dolt! We were set upon, beaten and robbed!"

"Didja get a receipt?"

"A receipt? Are you mad?"

"Uh, Fingers? Lookee here." Scarface passed over a small chit of paper.

Fingers LaFoote looked at it, and then looked at it again. "Yeah, uh, we got a receipt." He passed it over to Detritus. "What kind of crazy thieves hand out receipts?"

"Oh they have to," Angua informed him. "It's the law."


	5. The Pink Pussycat Club

Chapter 5: The Pink Pussycat Club

The Pink Pussycat called itself a gentlemen's club but defined the word "gentleman" broad enough to include the likes of Nobby Nobbs. This says something about the flexibility of our language.**(**1**)**

After the flaming assistant cook had run by, Nobby had gathered himself up and had entered the building.

It wasn't half bad. Most of the explosion had been contained in the kitchen. Yes, the front windows had been blown out, but in fact, few patrons came into the Pink Pussycat Club to either eat dinner or to look out the windows.

Some of the tables near the kitchen had been knocked over, but they were quickly righted and again covered with drinks.

The python which Bubbles LaTushie had been dancing with had passed out in fright and had to be carried into the back so that smelling salts could be administered. One girl's scanty costume had been ripped away, but whether it had been a victim of the blast or of an overly enthusiastic patron was up for debate.

Sheik Rattlenrol and his men came charging in to the rescue.

The maître f'**(**2**)** smiled. "Table for eleven?"

The Sheik realized there was no need of a rescue. He became confused and embarrassed. Turning around, he surveyed his men. "Can anyone here count that high?" After being answer by heads shaking and eyes averted, he shrugged. "Sure."

Ali al-Khali blurted, "But Offler would never approve of this place."

The maître f' chuckled. "Offler? He has no powers here."

"Really?"

"Of course not. He's a Klatchian god. He's got no jurisdiction. As far as He's concerned, what goes on in Anhk-Morpork, stays in Anhk-Morpork."

Eleven pairs of eyes flickered back and forth as they took in this new information.

"You know what would be helpful," suggested Badi Badhbad, "if we were to stay and observe. That way, we'd learn the warning signs to keep an eye out for, so we can protect our womenfolk from this degradation."

When heads began to nod, the maître f' led them to a large table with a clear view of the stage. A pretty waitress wearing a vague rumor of clothing appeared seemingly from nowhere. "What would you gentlemen like to drink?"

Ali al-Khali shook his head. "Offler denies us alcohol."

Badi Badhbad interrupted, "But if we were to sample it, we'd know what to watch for back in Klatch, so we can protect our children from it."

Sheik Rattlenrol grinned. "Something with little plastic umbrellas in it, perhaps?" When suspicious eyes glared at him, he quickly explained, "I observed a glass being sipped once when I sailed to Quirm."

"Eleven desert oasises, er, oasisi," the waitress said and then departed.

No-Fear Nimr asked, "What were those things all over her body?"

"You mean the . . . curves."

"Yes. Do our women have curves?"

The men looked back and forth between each other. No one was really sure.

۞

Lefty Wright and Thug made their way cautiously through the dark streets towards the Anhk-Morpork Zoo. They crept from shadow to shadow, always listening for the tell-tale cry of "All is well!"

Suddenly: "Peter? Peter Wright? Is that you?"

The call from the woman's voice caused Lefty to freeze in panic.

"Peter, that is you!"

"No lady," croaked Lefty is a false voice. "You got the wrong man. My name ain't Peter."

"Peter, come in here please. There's someone you should meet."

"I ain't Peter. And no how, I ain't got time for no socializing."

"I want you to meet your son."

"Really?" squealed Thug bouncing up from behind a barrel. "Hey Lefty, ya hear that? Ya got yourself a kid!"

۞

Ali Badhboi, with Oh-Oh on his shoulder, crept through the shadows up to the very base of the Thieves' Guild. They had used the confusion following the fortuitous explosion in the Pink Pussycat to slip away into the darkness.

The Thieves' Guild was an imposing building with no windows whatsoever on the ground level. There was a shaded promenade around the periphery of the second level, but how to get up there? He thought about shinning up a drainpipe, but a quick check behind one revealed fishhooks which had obviously been dipped into some kind of smelly substance. Ali Badhboi's nose went numb just from a single sniff.

There was a trellis with rose vines woven into the grating, but each slat was less than a quarter of an inch thick; sure to loudly snap if any man put his weight on it. And the roses didn't look like normal roses, but he couldn't tell what was wrong with them.

There was no other way. He took Oh-Oh down from his shoulder. "Hey little guy, I need your help," he explained quietly. "In a moment, I'm going to heave you upon onto that promenade; see it? I need you to find a rope, tie one end of it onto one of those pillars, and then drop the other end of the rope down here to me. You think you can do that?"

Oh-Oh curled his lips. This was monkey talk for, "Sure thing, boss. No problemo." Or it could mean, "I don't understand a word of what you're saying." Or it could also mean, "I feel like taking a nap." Ali Badhboi chose to believe the first meaning.

He back up a few steps, got a good grip on Oh-Oh, and flung him. Oh-Oh let out a chirp of surprise, but after that, he was concentrating on landing safely. Which he did. He gave a quick glance around at Ali Badhboi, and then, as instructed, jumped down to go looking for a rope.

BOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!

With a shriek, Oh-Oh came hurdling off the promenade. He landed on Ali Badhboi's head, which he grasped in terror. The monkey scooched around to look right in Ali Badhboi's face and then curled his lips. Ali Badhboi did not need a lip reader to tell him what the monkey was trying to convey.

۞

"Oh no!" gasped Sergeant Angua as Lance-Constable Detritus herded in another group of arrestees.

"Drunk an' disorderly, Sergeant" Detritus announced. "Duh whole lot o' dem. And dis one punched me inna eye."

Badi Badhbad sneered, "And also kicked you in the shin."

Ali al-Khali grinned. "I kicked him in the seat of his pants," he boasted.

"Eight? You arrested eight?" One was wearing a torn lampshade. Another had the seat of a chair broken over his head, and he hadn't bothered to remove it. A surprising number had remnants of tiny plastic umbrellas in their hair. Blood was dripping from more than one broken nose.

Mumbles of, "Eight? Who's missing" rippled around the group.

Angua pulled over her first booking form. "Okay, who's your leader?"

A chorus of, "He is," was followed by a thicket of fingers pointing every which way.

Angua counted fingers, and fixed her gaze on the suspect who'd gotten the most votes. "Name?"

"Sheik Rattlenrol."

She rolled her eyes. Some nights, she just wanted to transform herself into a werewolf and run around biting people. She tried again. "Your real name?"

1 Humpty Dumpty is reported to have said, "When I use a word, it means exactly what I want it to mean, no more, no less." But if he'd ever seen what the Pink Pussycat Club did to the definition of "gentleman," had have probably fallen off his wall in amazement.

2 The Pink Pussycat club was a couple of steps down from rating a maître d'.


	6. Break In

Chapter 6: Break In

Lefty's companion Thug may not have been the brightest star in the Discworld sky; he may have been unreliable and almost totally lacking in hygiene skills; and he may have been as graceful as a drunken rhinoceros tumbling down a flight of wood stairs, but he made a great horsy.

Lefty's newly-found son squealed with delight as the big man reared up, pawed the air and neighed. Then Thug and the lad went galumphing across the tiny living room.

Pricilla looked over at Lefty. "So, where have you been all these years?" she asked.

He shrugged. "All over really. Quirm, Pseudopolis, Sto Helit, Howondaland, al-Khali. You name it; I've been there."

"And you're back now? For good?"

"Oh. No, er, no. We just came to, uh, pick up a passenger and then we're back to sea. I'm a coastal trader now, sailing from one town to the next."

"Ah, I see. A girl in every port, is it?"

"Oh no, no, no! I mean, I wish. No, no, I don't wish. I mean I wish I had the time. We keep pretty busy mostly."

Thug asked, "Why don't you stay here?"

"What?"

"Well look what you got here. You gotta lovely lady, and a great kid. What more could a man want?"

"We gotta be back to the ship in just a couple of hours, Thug. You know that!"

"So jump ship. Look at her, Lefty. She's gorgeous! What do you want to hang around with us ugly guys for? If I had a lady like that, I'd be gone before you could blink once and fart twice."

"How am I gonna support them?"

Thug retorted, "How you gonna teach your kid to play catch if you're sailing around with me? How you gonna teach him how to tie his shoe? How you gonna take him to the zoo?"

"The zoo! The zoo! That's a great idea! We should take him to the zoo! Quick, where's his jacket?"

Pricilla frowned. "You mean now? It's the middle of the flippin' night!"

"Best time for it," said Lefty. He spotted the little jacket and tossed it to Thug. "No crowds. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"But the place will be closed. The gates will be locked."

"Hey! When did that ever stop me?"

Pricilla shook her head violently. "Oh no, Peter. No, no, no, no!"

۞

Sireen de Wowwow ran up to the main entrance of the Thieves' Guild and pounded on the heavy iron-banded door.

After a moment, an eye slit slid open. "Yeah?"

Sireen was almost bent over double as she gasped for breath. "Where is he?" she panted.

"Where's who?" The voice inside the door sounded as if it were echoing up out of an empty wine barrel.

"Ali Badhboi."

"Um, try Klatch."

"No! He's here in this city! He's coming here tonight! He's probably here now!"

"I ain't seen nobody."

"He's here now, I tell you! I followed him here!"

"Whoop-de-doo. And who the heck are you?"

"Sireen de Wowwow."

There was a long pause. "_The_ Sireen de Wowwow?"

"Just how many Sireen de Wowwows do you think there are in the world?" she snapped.

The guard moved his eye up and down in the slit. Then there was a rattle as he unlocked, unbolted and unchained the door. As the heavy door swung open, a face which looked as if it was the result of an industrial accident grinned out at her. "Come in! Come in, please, Miss de Wowwow. Can I get you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?"  
>She looked around at the big, empty room. "You've been here all night?"<p>

"Yeah."

"And this is the only door?"

"On de ground floor, year. We got some more upstairs, but dey're all chained closed at night. You can check 'em if you like. Now, how 'bout dat cup o' tea?"

"You haven't seen anybody?"

"We got some guards dogs running around de place. I seen dem. An' one of dem barked for a while earlier. Dat cudda been him tryin' to get in. But it didn't last long, and we're all secured. I checked."

(Neither Sireen de Wowwow nor the guard noticed the dark figure who slipped in through the open door while they were talking.)

"But I know he was coming here."

"What for?"

"I dunno. He said something about treasure. Do you guys have any treasure maps or anything like that?"

The guard chuckled. "Lady, we ain't prospectors; we're thieves. Besides, it's a well-known fact dat dere ain't no treasure in Anhk-Morpork. If dere was, someone would have already stolen it."

She looked around the room. It was spacious and airy. Into one wall was built a massive safe with more locks on it than seemed possible. (Apparently, thieves don't trust people.) That steel and concrete fortress was where most Anhk-Morpork thieves kept their booty. A glistening mahogany and brass counter stretched across that end of the room where, during regular hours, a battery of tellers took the deposits. There was a gaggle of comfortable couches in the middle of the room for clients, and scattered around the periphery were a dozen or so desks. No one could move in this room without everyone one else seeing.

The center of the room was two stories high. Around the top of the central core were the executive offices with windows which looked down on the floor below.

Sireen de Wowwow pointed up the plush carpeted stairs to the executive offices. "May I check to offices above us?" she asked.

"No." Both Sireen and the guard turned to see a six-foot six-inch dwarf standing in the open doorway. He wore the uniform of a captain of the City Watch. Into the light, stepped Carrot Ironfoundersson. "She's playing you for a fool."

"What?" gulped the guard.

"What?" Sireen de Wowwow echoed.

"She's distracting you while her accomplice does what accomplices do." He reached into a patch of darkness and plucked out Ali Badhboi. "You two are under arrest," Carrott announced. "You have the right to remain silent . . ."

۞

Crackers, the Klatchian octorine parrot, looked up at the high wall surrounding the Anhk-Morpork Zoo. "Onwards and upwards," he urged.

Now that they were actually here, Doc wasn't so sure. "What do you think, Slick?"

Slick McGumm shrugged. "It's why we're here, right?"

"Shhh!" They dodged deeper into the shadows.

A group of people was coming up the road. It turned out to be Lefty, holding hands with a pretty young woman, and Thug with a small boy perched high atop his gigantic shoulders.

Doc handed Crackers over to Slick and whispered, "Wait here." He moved out of the shadows and over towards the approaching group. "So what's with the tart and the kid?"

Lefty blushed. "They're my family, Doc."

The gaunt man lifted an eyebrow. "So you just thought you'd bring them along?"

"Peter?" asked Pricilla. "What's going on?"

Doc ignored her. "Have you seen Fingers or Scarface?"

"Naw, Doc. I've been with my family, like I said."

"Peter?" Anger was growing in Pricilla's voice.

Doc frowned. "Who's this Peter guy?"

"It's me, Doc."

"You mean . . . it's like an alias?"

"Peter's my real name. Lefty is my alias."

"You're real name isn't Lefty?"

"No, Doc."

"Geez, you think you know a guy." Doc led them back to where Slick and Crackers were waiting in the dark. "No one's seen Fingers or Scarface," Doc told them.

Slick gazed down the street. "I wonder if the cops got 'em."

"Peter, you said we were going to the zoo."

"And we're here, ain't we?"

"You're taking me and your son on a heist?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous. We're only casing the joint."

Doc squinted upwards. "So Lefty, what's your kid's name?"

"Uh," replied Lefty. He thought about this. "Uh . . ."

"Peter Junior," said Pricilla.

Doc asked, "Do you think if we chucked Peter Junior over the wall that he could walk over and unlock the gates for us?"

Pricilla snatched the boy up. "No!"

"Hmmmm, then how are we gonna climb this wall?"

Slick scratched his head. "Fingers was supposed to pick the lock."

"Well, he's not here, is he?"

"Why don't I give it a try?" suggested Lefty.

Thug gaped. "You know how to pick locks?"

Pricilla glared. "You know how to pick locks?"

"In my youth," explained Lefty to her. "Before I met you. But that's all behind me now. Now, I'm just an honest coastal trader."

"Who's breaking into the city zoo."

"Well yeah, there is that." He gulped and decided he needed to get some distance between him and Pricilla, and so he hurried over to the gate. He got down on one knee and studied the lock. "Man, this looks really hard. You people should make yourself comfortable. This is going to take a while." He took out his pocket knife and inserted the blade into the lock. When he wiggled the blade around a bit, the gate popped open.

"Hey, Lefty!" grinned Thug. "Good job!" He led the way into the zoo.

Doc, Crackers and Slick followed.

Lefty held the gate for Pricillia.

"Oh no," she retorted, heading the other way. "No way you're going to get me to break and enter."

"Hey Pricilla," called Thug as he walked deeper into the zoo. "You want your kid back?"

Air hissed in frustration between her teeth. She turned back and strode angrily into the zoo with Lefty following and closing the gate behind them.


	7. Incarceration

Chapter 7: Incarceration

Captain Carrot deposited his two suspects in front of Sargent Angua. "Two unlicensed burglars," he announced. "And you'll never guess where I caught them."

She looked up. "More Klatchians? Is there a convention going on that we don't know about?"

Carrot continued, "Inside the Thieves' Guild, that's where. So, we'll need to slap them in solitary to keep any thieves from getting to them."

"You mean in the same cell as the unlicensed assassin?"

"We have an assassin already in there? Oh great." Okay, okay, I'll tell Detritus to get the garret ready and then have Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard move over and keep watch on the garret windows.

Angua pulled over yet another booking report. "Name?"

"Ali Badhboi."

She looked up at him. She looked over at Carrot. Carrot looked back. "_The_ Ali Badhboi?"

"You've heard of me?"

"Is it true what they say about you?"

He flashed her a most evil grin. "Only the bad things. What did you have in mind?"

She grinned back. "Putting you behind bars for a really long time.'

"Such a waste," he murmured, "of a golden opportunity."

"What did you have in mind?" she mocked.

"Oh. A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou."

"In your dreams."

"Forever, and to the end of time," he purred.

Carrot interrupted, So where are your 40 thieves?"

Ali Badhboi pointed. "There's one of them."

Sireen de Wowwow snarled, "Very funny." Then to Angua she said, "I'm Sireen de Wowwow. My name alone should prove I'm not one of his slithering minions."

"I'm sorry." Angua looked for help over to Carrot, who shrugged helplessly. "Siren de . . . once again?"

"Sireen de Wowwow. You've heard of me."

"No, not ringing a bell."

"I'm famous all over the Disc!"

Angua looked again at Carrot. He repeated his shrug.

"Well isn't this terrific," Sireen sneared. "You've all heard of this tuppence ruffian, but you draw a blank when it comes to the Disc's most celebrated exotic dancer."

۞

Corporal Nobby Nobbs's shift stated at midnight.

When he appeared, Sergeant Angua breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, you're here. We're overflowing with prisoners tonight. First, wipe the lipstick from behind your left ear. Second, check on the cells, make sure they're not killing each other in there, and third report back here for further orders.

Nobby nodded, picked up a truncheon (just in case) and headed into the cell block.

"NOBBY!" came the delighted shout of recognition from the Klatchians.

The stunned corporal took a step back and blinked.

Angua had half turned around in her chair. "Friends of yours?"

۞

The elephant enclosure would be easy to find. It was right next to the zepplopotomuses, and those giant floating creatures could be seen from all over the zoo.

Doc led the group passed the snake house's three-banded coits, basilisks and subtractacondas; passed the latergator pit**(**1**)**; passed the chimera with their legs of a mermaid, hair of a tortoise, teeth of a fowl, and wings of a snake; passed the Überwaldean land eels; passed the lake of whoopsie cranes (who amused all by spontaneously tripping and falling in the water over and over); passed the platypus goonie birds (whoa!); passed the combat wombats; and passed a herd of cud-chewing thargas. From somewhere in the distance came the sonic boom of an ambiguous puzuma as one of the big cats approached lightspeed.

"Guys! Guys! Guys! Over here!" Tickles was waving his trunk frantically.

Doc and the group hurried up to the elephant compound. The front and sides were bordered by a deep trench, and the back side was a towering faux-cliff wall.

"I thought you guys would never get here! I thought you'd forgotten all about poor, old Tickles."

Pricilla gaped at Lefty. "Your elephant can talk?"

"Well yes," he squirmed. "It's a, it's a long story."**(**2**)**

Doc said to Tickles, "We're here now."

"Come on! Get me out!"

"This is just a reconnaissance mission. We'll be back with the rest of the guys."

"You have to get me out NOW!" Tickles's eyes were wide with terror.

"By the gods, what's the matter? What have they been doing to you?"

"You see that elephant over there?"

"Yeah?"

"They want me to make baby elephants with her!"

Doc snickered. "So what's the problem?"

"'What's the problem?'! Take a look at her. She's big! She's fat! She's wrinkled! Her nose is huge!"

"Tickles, Tickles, Tickles," Doc hushed him. "She's an elephant. All elephants are big and fat and wrinkled and have big noses."

"WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?"

۞

Tonight, Oh-Oh was going to be a hero. No more "Oh-Oh, you are such a cute monkey, have a peanut!" or "Oh-Oh, have a piece of banana," or "Oh-Oh, here, have a shot of rum," or "Oh-Oh, are you getting fat?" Tonight, he was going to gain respect.

And maybe even a pair of pants.

He deftly made his way up the side of the Pseudopolis Yard Station towards the newly-lit garret window. It was a long climb, but hey, he was a monkey born in the wilds, right? Okay, maybe not exactly the wilds, but certainly in the mean streets of al-Khali. Yeah, those were tough too. Maybe they weren't as high as the Klatchian rainforests where his parents were from, but his parents' blood coursed through his veins. And monkeys were the second cousin, twice removed of gorillas. So tonight, there was nothing that was going to stop him.

Splinter! Splinter! Splinter! He whimpered, sucked the offending needle of wood out of his finger, spit it disdainfully down into the darkness below, put a kiss on his finger to make it all better, and began climbing again.

Who wrote heroic tales of monkeys? No one. What tribesmen sat around campfires singing tales of monkey valor? None. Which little children had pictures of monkeys on their wall to serve as role models? Again, none. But tonight, that was all going to change.

Panting heavily, Oh-Oh achieved the bottom of the window sill. He pulled himself up the rest of the way. Yes, there they were! Ali Badhboi and Sireen de Wowwow.

He started to say something but realized his couldn't breathe. The stone fist that was holding him turned him slowly to look into a face that would cause a mother to vomit.

Gargoyles were masters of surveillance. They could sit on roofs for weeks without moving, living only on rainwater and a few careless pigeons. But like all gargoyles, Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard could, for a short burst, move with a quickness so blinding that it would make a mongoose widdle with envy.

And even a second cousin, twice removed of gorillas couldn't break a gargoyle's grip of stone.

۞

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" shrieked Tickles, jumping up and down with big tears running down his face. "GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT!"

Slick murmured to Doc, "I've never seen an elephant throw a temper tantrum before. I didn't even know they could."

Down a nearby row of cages, the weeping hyena joined in. They sniffled; they cried; they sobbed; they wailed; they blubbered; one even began scribbling a suicide note.

"Mommy, why is that elephant crying?"

"Oh, well, he wants to come home with us, but he can't."

"Sure he can!"

"Where is he going to sleep?"

"Anywhere he wants." The boy giggled.

"I think we need further instruction," said Doc. He took Crackers down from his shoulder. "Crackers, fly to Ali Badhboi. Tell him that Tickles is demanding to be broken out now. Ask him what should we do? And remember . . ."

"Yes, yes, I know," sighed Crackers. "Fly to his amulet, not to the ship. While I'm gone, try not to do anything stupid, okay?" The Klatchian octorine took wing and flew off in the direction of Pseudopolis Yard."

۞

Sergeant Angua looked up. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Azziz'zing a gail 'rake."

"Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard, that's a monkey you have in your hand. A monkey."

"'E wus 'rying ohh 'rake ou' A'i 'Ad'oi an' Ziree' 'a Wowwow."

"Okay, let's say we arrest this monkey for assisting a jail break and throw him in jail too. What's to keep him from walking out between the bars?"

The gargoyle looked confused.

"My point exactly," sneered Angua. She turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Nobby! Corporal Nobbs, I need you!"

A few seconds later, Nobby appeared. "You bellowed?"

She fought to keep her temper. It was getting close to that time a month, when the moon was full and she'd long to let her fangs grow, let her hands turn to paws, and let her human brain shrink down to wolf size. "Corporal Nobbs, if you'd be so kind. Please take this monkey down and deposit him in the city zoo, please."

"But Sarge, it's the middle of the nigh - - "

"JUST DO IT!"

"Yes ma'am!" Nobby snatched the monkey from out of the stone hand of Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard and scurried out of the station house with it.

The monkey calmed right down. Truth be told, Nobby reminded Oh-Oh a lot of his mother . . . or even more so, of Oh-Oh's Great Uncle Henry, who nobody ever talked about. Ever.

۞

A courteous rap on the door was followed by a good-natured grin of a hunchback. "Ith everything alright in here? Doth anyone need medical attenthion?"

"Igor? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, jutht a little mithunderthanding, thir. Thomeone accuthed me of body thnatching, and I'm jutht helping out here until we can thraighten thingth out."

Ali Badhboi sat down heavily. "Well this complicates things immensely. Now, we'll need an escape planned for three."

"Three, thir. How do you figure?"

"Well, there's you, me, and Miss de Wowwow."

"But what about Mithter Vulture down in tholidary?"

"Is Black Vulture the unlicensed assassin they were speaking of? So we need an escape planned for four."

"But what about Mithter LaFoote and Mithter Higgens?"

"Fingers and Scarface? What about them?"

"They're here too, thir."

"So we're, what? Six?"

"Oh no, thir."

"There's . . . more?"

"Would you be upthet if I mentioned Thheik Rattlenrol, Amir the Corthair, Ali al-Khali, No-Fear Nimr, Badi Badhbad, Jibbar Rich, Hakim Hawkfathe, and Big Wali?"

"Tickles."

"Thir?"

"This whole adventure is about freeing Tickles, to get one of our own out from behind bars. Instead, we end up with how many more in jail?"

"Fourteen, thir."

Ali Badhboi cringed. "Fourteen."

"It could be worth, thir. If there were one leth, then we'd be only thirteen. Think of the bad luck that would bring."

1 Latergators were a lot like alligators except that they could travel in time. This made digging their pit an especially interesting task. No one could tell when a 'gator would pop into existence and take a bite out of one's backside.

2 Actually, the story of how Tickles came to talk is a very short one. It's just so unbelievable that people have given up trying to tell it. It goes something like this. No, on second thought, I'd better not.


	8. Comes a Parrot

Chapter 8: Comes a Parrot

Octorine was the color of magic. So Crackers, the Klatchian octorine parrot, was drawn like a magnet to the thaumic crystal of Ali Badhboi's amulet. But Crackers was not stupid. Before flying up to the lit garret window of the Pseudopolis Yard station, he landed on the roof across the way to check things out.

Sitting in the shadows near the garret was the hideous shape of a gargoyle. Crackers knew a little something about gargoyles. He knew they were made of stone, that they could sit for days, even weeks, totally motionless and then move with a quickness that would make lightning blush. He knew they ate pigeons. He knew that, even though he himself was not a pigeon, the gargoyle was most likely not going to notice any difference. Gargoyles were, after all, not particularly smart. They had rocks for brains.

So how was a parrot, octorine or not, to get passed this bird-devouring monster and into the garret to where Ali Badhboi was? What weakness did stone gargoyle have? It didn't tire. It was incorruptible. It didn't seem to notice if it were hot in summer and cold in winter. It didn't need to come in out of the rain. It didn't chase women, get drunk, or lose the rent money betting on roulette. But it must have a weakness.

How did that children's game go? Stone breaks scissors. Scissors cut paper. Paper covers stone. – - Could it really be as simple as that?

Cracker muttered, "Onwards and upwards," and took flight. He flew along at street level, reading the signs of businesses. When he spotted the Law Offices of Morcombe, Slant & Honeyplace, he looked around for an open window and flew in.

۞

Ursa Beargrease was sitting on one ice pack in the galley while having a second icepack applied to her newly-set broken nose. She let the second icepack droop down so that it chilled her split lip.

Vena asked, "Did she say why she attacked you?"

Ursa replied, "No, and I was even nice enough to loosen her manacles for a few minutes so she could get the circulation back."

Irene Ironfist was leaning up against the galley bulkhead. Her voice was a near growl. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No, miss."

With the rage of an injustice-not-righted burning within her sixteen-year-old heart, Irene turned on her heel and strode out of the galley. She made her way to the wardroom. "Magic Crystal!"

"ZZZzzkkphff. Hummm? Wha?"

"Where is Sireen de Wowwow?"

"It's the middle of the night!"

She glared at it. "I could drill three holes in you, and use you as a bowling ball. Now, where is she!"

"Uh, um, oh yeah. In the garret of the City Watch's Pseudopolis Yard Station."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I what? I'm a magic crystal. Of course I'm sure."

She spun on her hell and started to leave. "Thank you," she said. She started to leave again. "Gentlemen," she added, "Get back to sleep. You have a busy day ahead." She started to leave again. "Sweet dreams," she said and left.

۞

Crackers flew back to Pseudopolis Year, a document clutched in his claw. When he got there, he flew directly at the gargoyle and presented the document. "This is a Writ of Taurus Stercus," he announced. "I am Ali Badhboi's legal counsel, and this document grants me immediate access to my client."

Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard examined the document. Most of the words were misspelled, including Crackers' own name; the space for "date" was filled in with the words "nextt Satruday nite?" and the space for the official city seal was filled in with an "X." However, all of this was of no significance because Lance-Constable Entryway-Over-Pseudopolis-Yard was holding the document upside-down. He went over, lifted up the window, and then returned to his sentry post.

Crackers entered.

"Crackerth?"

"Good evening, Igor. Miss de Wowwow, you're looking lovely tonight, I must say. And Ali Badhboi, well, what a fine mess you have gotten yourself into here."

"Crackers, do you have a message for me?"

"Woo hoo, do I ever! Oh, you mean from Doc? Yeah, he wants me to tell you that Tickles is demanding to be freed immediately and wants to know what he should do." Crackers began pacing back and forth, making little up-and-down bounces as he paced. "So ya got yourself locked up in Pseudopolis Yard, eh? Maybe you could use a little help in breaking out?"

Ali Badhboi slowly shook his head. "Half my crew is locked up in here. Tell Doc, he's on his own. He should do what he thinks best."

"Thirty-five perthent, thir, not half."

"Maybe old Crackers," cackled the parrot, "maybe old Crackers just might be able to bust you outta here. Are ya interested? Maybe a little, perhaps?"

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that, even since this voyage began, you've had that amulet hung uselessly around your neck. You have no more idea of how to use it than Vena the Raven-Haired has of how to use a cookbook. What I'm saying is that I'm a Klatchian octorine. I know magic."

Ali Badhboi fished the amulet from out of his shirt. "You mean this?"

Cracker hopped over next to him. "I mean that." He eyed the amulet hungrily. "You can keep its chintzy 12-carat gold; you can keep its flawed sapphires; just give me this." The parrot reached out with its beak, struggled briefly as he wrestled the thaumic crystal free, and then he swallowed it. "Whoa! By the fanged teeth of Offler!" The parrot staggered for a moment, and then righted himself and shook his head. He exalted, "Onwards and upwards! It's magic time!"


	9. To the Rescue

Chapter 9: To the Rescue

"Wake up! Wake up, you stupid Carpet!" demanded Irene Ironfist.

"Hummffph? Wha?"

"Wake up! Tonight, you're going to learn to fly!"

"Oh, go away. Let me sleep."

"I need you to fly me to the garret window of the Pseudopolis Yard station!"

"Yeah? Well, I need a pile of gold three feet high, but we both know that ain't gonna happen either."

"Wake up!" She grabbed the Carpet off the line where it'd been hung and flung it up into the night sky. "Flyyyyy!"

"What are you doing!" shrieked the Carpet as it wafted gently back down. "I'm falling! I'm falling!"

Irene snatched it from out of the air. "Listen to me! You're a flying carpet, a flying carpet! You were made to fly!"

"If carpets were meant to fly," whimpered the Carpet, "we'd have been given wings. I just want to lie on the floor and look up women's skirts."

Irene grabbed the Carpet in her fists and brought it up to her fury-filled face. "Listen to me, Carpet!" Then she heard what it had just said, "You really do need professional help. –But listen, tonight, you are flying!" She flung it into the sky again.

"No! No! No! Stop trying to kill me!" It came back down over the line, which it wrapped itself around like it was some kind of a rectangular subtractaconda (with tassels on each end). "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" The Carpet blubbered.

Irene Ironfish took a frustrated step backwards and bumped into You Bastard, the fithy-tempered camel, whose sole job appeared to be smelling up the place.

۞

As Crackers flew back towards the zoo, he could feel the magic of the thaumic crystal metamorphosing him. He had already grown into a Lancre Crowhawk, one of the most psychotically vicious birds of prey to be found anywhere on the Disc, but yet he was still growing, still changing, and now he could feel himself becoming a Great Combovered Eagle.

۞

Mica al-Moor, bin Dere-dun-Dat and Kasbah Bill came stomping out of the darkness and up the gangplank of the ship. Each was wearing a ballet tutu (pastel yellow, pastel pink and pastel green), each was wearing a pair of swim fins, each had on a beanie with a propeller on the top, and each had a stuffed parrot on his shoulder (except Kasbah Bill's stuffed parrot had had its head ripped off and replaced with a candy cane).

"Er, gentlemen" stammered Ferrari, "where, where, where - - ?"

A warning figure shot out from bin Dere-dun-Dat. "Don't even get me started!" He led his two shipmates towards their bunks. "Gentlemen," he said through gritted teeth. "We are going to go to sleep now. When we wake up in the morning, we shall discover this was all a very, very, very, very bad dream."

"Hutt, hutt - - get out of the way! – - hutt hutt!" Irene Ironfist barreled by atop of You Bastard, nearly knocking three men over. The camel raced down the gangplank and off into the darkness. "Hutt hutt!"**(**1**)**

۞

Corporate Nobby Nobbs, carrying Oh-Oh the monkey, arrived at the front gates to the city zoo. They were locked, as he knew they would be. He hallooed, but there was no answer, as he knew there wouldn't be. Yet he was acting under orders, bloody stupid orders to be sure, but orders is orders.

He walked along the fence wondering what to do with the bloody monkey. After some distance, he came to the monkey house. There, just beyond the wall, were all the bloody monkeys and all the bloody apes a man could bloody well shake a stick out. But he was on the wrong bloody side of the bloody wall.

So, he chucked the critter over.

Problem solved.

* * *

><p>1 A word about how camels run. Most zoologists classify them as quadrupeds. Not true. All appearances aside, a camel does not have four legs, but twelve. The eight legs you don't see (except for their kneecaps) are located in another dimension. So it is little wonder than a four-legged, twelve-kneecapped camel can get up to remarkable speeds.<p> 


	10. Break Out

Chapter 10: Break Out

CLICK!

Fingers LaFoote grinned. "See mates," he whispered. "There ain't no lock nowhere on the Disc that old Fingers can't pick." He gently pushed open the barred door so that is wouldn't squeak and led the way out of the cell.

The Klatchians crept over to the exit of the cell block and peeked out. Sergeant Angua sat with her back to them. The rest of the large room was littered with Watchmen, some of them being trolls.

"Let's rush 'em," suggested No-Fear Nimr. "They won't be expecting it. Now, some of us are going to die . . ."

"What?"

"Who's stupid enough to lead the charge?"

"How about Sheik Rattlenrol? He's an officer."

"Me?"

Desperate hands pushed the Sheik to the front.

He turned back to his men. "Hey, we're forgetting Black Vulture down in solitary. We can just leave him here, and he's a good gent to have in a fight."

The Klatchians looked back into the big room. Lance-Constable Detritus was cleaning his _Piecemaker_, a 2000-pound-draw siege crossbow.

"Yeah, we need to rescue Black Vulture."

۞

Oh-Oh wandered through the monkey house. Over the entryway to one room was a sign that read: "Guerillas." Oh-Oh knew this meant "small wars." He peered in.

Two armies of inch-high gorillas were squaring off against each other. The combatants wore armor with cute little crested helmets, carried flags and spears, and squeaked ferociously at each other. One side even had a small contingent of chariots pulled by field mice. The other side had a company of bonsai elephants, three inches high.

It was embarrassing for Oh-Oh to see simians acting like a bunch of idiot humans. He left before the bloodshed began.

۞

"Look out!"

Doc, Slick, Lefty, Pricilla, Peter Junior and Thug all hit the ground, covering their heads.

"Hi guys. How're things going?"

Doc peeked out. "Who wants to know?"

"It's me. Crackers."

"Crackers is a parrot."

"I know."

"You're a red dragon."

"Yeah, isn't it great?"

"H-h-how . . ?"

"I'm a Klatchen octorine. Mix that together with a little magic, and who knows what will happen." The dragon grinned.

The people started getting up from the ground and brushing themselves off.

"So, what now?" asked Doc.

"Well, Ali Badhboi said we were on our own for getting Tickles out, and so why don't I just lift him up and fly away?"

"You can do that?"

"Hey, I'm a red dragon. I can do practically anything I want."

Tickles shook his head. "Wait a minute. If the gods had wanted elephants to fly, they'd have painted us pink and given us wings."

"Oh don't be such a baby," scolded Crackers as he lifted into the air. "You sound like you've been talking to that chicken Carpet." He fastened his talons around Tickles and then turned and the two of them flew back the way he'd come.

Tickles's screaming could be heard from a long way off.

۞

Hrun the Barbarian strolled into the Pseudopolis Yard station house as if he owned the place. He went up to Angua and showed her a _Wanted_ parchment. "You seen dis guy?"

She squinted. "Who's that supposed to be?"

"Him? Why, dat's Ali Badhboi. He don't know it yet, but he's going back to Wyrmberg with me."

"What's he wanted for?"

"Da usual. Plundering, pillaging, robbing, thieving, cheating at cards, pickpocketing, smuggling, shoplifting, burglary, larceny, smash and grab, fraud, tax evasion, flim flam and, oh yeah, seven paternity suits. So, you seen him?"

۞

The next feature of the monkey house that caught Oh-Oh's eye was a sign announcing: "The subject of tonight's debate: The Pending Banana Shortage." This was more like it, differences of opinion being solved on an intellectual level. Oh-Oh hurried in, hoping some good seats for the debate were still available.

One debate team was made up of Red-Bottomed Baboons. The other team consisted of Blue-Bottomed Baboons. The debate consisted of each side defecating in their own forepaws and then hurling the feces at the other side.

Oh-Oh left disappointed.

۞

You Bastard stopped. Irene Ironfist didn't.

"Iiiieeeeee!" Splat.

You Bastard turned and trotted serenely back towards the ship.

Irene Ironfist staggered back up to her feet. As she started to dust herself off, she noticed several rips in her cotton shift. Well, wasn't that just fine?

She looked around for something to use as a mirror. There was a large window in the front of Barbara's Barbarian Fashions. She checked herself out. She looked pathetic. Then her eyes focus upon the items laid out on display.

The only thing a sixteen-year-old girl enjoys better than shopping for clothes is "shopping" for clothes in the middle of the night when they were free.

Irene started looking around for a rock.

۞

In the unlit solitary cell in the Pseudopolis Yard's basement, the unlicensed assassin known as the Black Vulture heard many men coming for him. He crouched in the darkness, waiting for them. He knew he couldn't defeat them all, but many would die.

"Blackie?" called Sheik Rattlenrol.

"Who wants to know?"

"It's me, Sheik Rattlenrol."

"What are you doing here?"

"We're breaking you out."

"Do you have a key?"

"We've got something better. We've got Fingers LaFoote."

"A key would work better."

CLICK! Finger's voice said, "There ya go. Door's open."

"Uh, I take that back."

"Okay, Blackie, here's the plan. The way back upstairs is clear. We can creep back up there, no problem. But the main room is filled with Watchmen. We'll have to take them out."

"What kind of weapons do we have?" asked the Black Vulture.

"None. Just our bare fists."

"What kind of weapons do they have?"

"Uh lots, including troll with a _Piecemaker._"

"Who'll be leading the charge?"

"You."

"Er, have you got another plan?"

۞

The next sign Oh-Oh the monkey came across announced: "Book signing tonight: Edward the Gibbon, author of _The Decline and Fall of the Planet of the Apes._

Oh-Oh smiled. Now, this had promise.

۞

The prisoners crept back up the stairs and peered out.

"Oh no. Hrun the Barbarian is out there."

"What? Where?"

"That big guy talking to the sergeant."

"So what do we do?"

"Two choices. We either go meekly back to our cells, or we charge.

"CHARGE!"

The prisoners erupted out of the cell block. The guards reached for their weapons. Hrun pulled out his massive sword.

CHASH! BASHHH! BOUNCE, BOUNCH, CRASH! What no one expected was for an elephant to come crashing in through one of the walls, to go bouncing across the room, and to smash headfirst into the far wall, knocking itself unconscious.

At first, everyone just stood there, looking at the dust and splinters as they settled and wondering where the heck the elephant had come from.

Then there was a pair of pathetically weak screams as Ali Badhboi and Igor came falling out of the ceiling, bounced off the elephant's belly, and went tumbling across the floor.

A triumphant grin spread across Hrun's face. "Good evening, Ali Badhboi. We meet again."

The prisoners saw what was happening and scurried to put themselves between Hrun and Ali Badhboi. "You'll have to come through us to get him."

Hrun grinned. "There's how many of you?"

The men tried to count but without much luck. Finally, Igor said, "Thirteen, thir."

Ali Badhboi mumbled, "Thirteen?" He looked up through the hole in the ceiling. "Are you coming?"

"No!" shouted back Sireen de Wowwow. "Given the choice between being your prisoner or being a prisoner of Anhk-Morpork, I'll stay here! The food's better!"

Ali Badhboi and the thieves all nodded understandingly.

"So you have me outnumbered 13-to-1? How can you expect to win with such small numbers?"

"Because it's not 13-to-1," snapped a voice from the entry. "It's 14-to-1." Everyone turned to see Irene Ironfist stride into the room. She was wearing a bejeweled metal bra and metal shorty shorts; a flowing, pink cloak, pink snowboots with white cross laces, and on her hip was the Warhammer of Justice (or maybe of Truth or possibly of Vengence - - she really hadn't decided yet). She placed herself directly in front of Hrun and stared him in the belt buckle.

The big barbarian shrugged. "Okay, thirteen-and-a-half-to one." He threw back his shaggy head and laughed.

Irene dropped to one knee and brought the Warhammer of Justice down on Hrun's big toe.

"Yow!" Hrun yowled and began hopping around.

But lifting his leg to do so was a tactical error, for Irene brought the Warhammer of Justice back up and CRUNCH!

Every male in the room let out a groan and immediately lost the ability to walk or even stand up straight.

Hrun's eyes crossed, and he fell backwards onto the floor.

A red dragon stuck his head in through the hole in the wall. "Sorry I dropped you, Tickles. But you were sweating so that you got too slippery to hold."

If Angua had been in werewolf form, she would have undoubtedly fought to the death. But a strange phenomenon overtakes the brain of a human (or a dwarf or a troll) when faced with a gigantic carnivorous beast outweighing the person ten or twenty times over, capable of breathing fire and heavily armored from snout to tail tip. There comes a sudden and irresistible urge to be anywhere else.

In less than 15 seconds, Crackers was alone in the room with an unconscious elephant and an unconscious barbarian.

Crackers squirmed through the whole, waddled over, and with his huge claw, ripped up a section of the floor. "Hey guys."

Down in the basement, the thieves were cowering. "Please don't eat us! No! No! No!"

"Oh for pity sake, I'm not going to eat you. It's me, Crackers."


	11. Treasures

Chapter 11: Treasures

As Doc, Slick, Lefty, Pricilla and Thug with Peter Junior on his shoulders, passed by Pricilla's humble shack, they stopped. Lefty knew that it was time for him to make up his mind.

Before him stood Pricilla, a lovely wench, good natured (which she wasn't being furious with him), resourceful, smart, reliable and faithful. And with her, was Lefty's only son, a bright-eyed scamp who mimicked Lefty's own good looks. On paper, this was everything a man could ask for. Then he looked down the road towards the river. He could just make out the mainmast of _Devil Wind_ poking its tip over the jumble of buildings. Aboard her was danger, excitement, adventure, and occasionally treasure.

He looked over to Thug, who used that thick skull of his to point a couple of times over at Pricilla's hut.

"Whatcha waitin' for?" growled Doc. "We gotta be going."

Lefty took Pricilla's hands in his. "That's right," he said gently. "I gotta be going."

Thug groaned, "Lefty..!"

"You're a lovely woman," the thief continued, "and you have a wonderful son, but this isn't the life for me." He expected tears and maybe shouts, but she just nodded. He added, "I'll never forget you."

"Lefty," snapped Thug, "you're a moron! Look at this girl; she's gorgeous! Look at this kid; he's a wonder! How can any man not wanna be here?"

"I've made up my mind, Thug."

"But, but, but . . ."

"Thug," said Pricilla gently. "It's okay. It really is."

"It ain't okay! It ain't okay at all!" Thug's giant fist rolled into a ball as if he wanted to cream someone. "It ain't right!"

Doc said, "C'mon, Thug."

"No!" bellowed Thug. "No, I ain't goin'! If Lefty ain't stayin', then I am!" He realized what he'd just said and blushed. He glanced over at Pricilla. "That is, if you'll have me. You need somebody, girl. I know I ain't much . . ."

She was looking at him curiously. "Thug, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying if Lefty ain't smart enough to stay here, then I am. If he don't stay, then I do!"

Lefty was agape.

Pricilla looked over at him. "Is he crazy?"

Lefty shook his head. "Naw, Thug's just a man who knows what he wants and knows what's right. I don't." He turned and headed slowly for the docks.

Pricilla asked, "Do you really want to stay?"

"Sure, miss. Somethin' like this is all I've been dreaming of for years! And to tell you the truth, I get seasick something awful. I dread getting back on that ship."

"Well," she said with a smile flickering across her lips, "we can't have that, now, can we?"

۞

"You want me to what?" Tickles couldn't believe his ears.

"Put your head down," repeated Ali Badhboi, "and charge full speed into that wall."

"That wall's made outta bricks! It'd hurt a lot."

"That's okay."

"Sure, it's okay for you. It isn't your head."

"Look, would you just smash into that wall?"

"I don't wanna."

"Tickles, charge."

"How many gallons of water did it take you to wake me up in the Watch station?"

"Hey, that's not a fair comparison. There, you were dropped out of the sky, crashed through one wall, bounced across the floor and smashed into another wall, plus had the ceiling collapse on you. Here, it's a simple scamper and BOOM one, single wall."

"A brick wall."

"You're an elephant, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"A big, tough guy?"

"Well I'm big, but I like to think that I'm sensitive."

"Tickles, charge the wall."

"I like poetry."

"Charge the wall."

"And flowers."

Ali Badhboi whispered, "There's a sexy lady elephant on the other side."

"(a) No, there isn't and, (b) if there were, she'd be big, fat, wrinkled, and have a gigantic nose. No thank you."

"Tickles, charge the wall."

"What's so important about that wall, anyway? Why do I have to crash through it?"

"Have you ever heard the saying, 'There's no treasure in Anhk-Morpork because, if there were, someone would have already stolen it'?"

"Uh, sure."

"On the other side of that wall is the vault of the Thieves' Guild. Everything that's been stolen in this city is just the other side of those bricks."

Tickles blinked. Tickles pondered. Tickles charged!

۞

"Tickles? Tickles? Wake up."

"Mmmm? Huh?"

"Wake up. Time to go."

"Hey! Why am I hitched to a wagon?'

Ali Badhboi and his men grinned. "Take a look inside the wagon."

Tickles squirmed around and lifted up his massive head. "Holy peanuts from the gods!" The wagon was filled with treasure chests, stacks of gold bars, gobs of jewelry, oil paintings, bags of coins, bundles of cash, wicker baskets filled with jade, towering marble statues, jeweled armor, a couple of crystal chandeliers, a silver saddle, and an octorine something or other.

"Time to go."

"Well, YEAH!" Tickles responded clambering up to his feet.

Ali Badhboi yelled up to Crackers. "Is that guard still staying inside?"

"He's in there, all right," gloated the dragon. "I can hear him trembling."

"Let's move out!"

Tickles started pulling the massive wagon towards the docks. The thieves ran and jumped into the moving wagon. As Crackers spread his giant wings, Irene Ironfist ran up his back and threw her arms around his snake-like neck. He lifted off, circled once and then falling into line, gliding silently behind the wagon.

As the neared the port, a line of archers moved into the street to block their path.

Crackers winged ahead and loosed a warning breath of fiery air.

The archers left.

The treasure wagon pulled up onto the docks and halted just below the gangplank. The thieves jumped down from the wagon and began toting the loot up into the ship.

Doc, Slick and Lefty appeared from across the plaza and hurried over to help.

The two trolls lumbered down from their guard posts, lifted massive amounts of treasure and hefted in back into the ship.

Ferrari's other men appeared and began carrying as well.

Overhead, Irene Ironfist on Crackers circled, keeping a lookout for anyone who thought about intervening.

Sinwell the Sailor again took up command of the ship on the quarterdeck. Redbeard grasped the great wheel. In the crow's nest, Amir the Corsair took up his position as lookout.

The gangplank was pulled up; the lines were cast off; and the ship glided quietly out into the slow moving river.

Ali Badhboi was given a muster list of the crew. Four were missing. The Crystal of Katoosh was quickly brought up from the wardroom.

"Magic Crystal, some of our people are missing. Tell us where they are," commanded Ali Badhboi. "Never mind Sireen de Wowwow; she elected to stay behind. What about Sloe Djinn Fez?"

"Blown up," reported the Crystal. "He was the explosion that ripped apart the Pink Pussycat Club."

"Oh no," breathed Ali Badhboi. "That's awful." He looked around at his shocked crew. "We'll have services for him once we've reached the open sea. What about Thug?"

The Crystal answered, "He elected to stay behind with his family."

"Family? I didn't know he had a family here. Well, good for him. That leaves more treasure for the rest of us. And what about Oh-Oh the monkey?"

"Imprisoned, sir, in the Anhk-Morpork City Zoo."

Ali Badhboi goggled. "Didn't we originally come here to get one of our crewmen _out_ of the city zoo? Now, we have to go back and do it ALL OVER AGAIN!"

"No worries, sir," said Crackers. "I know the way. I can go fetch him back by myself."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be happy too." The giant red dragon spread his wings and flew off into the first glimmer of dawn.

So with the dragon off on his rescue mission, the rest of the crew took the last of the treasure down into the hold and toted the Crystal of Katoosh back down to the wardroom.

۞

Sergeant Fred Colon saw the first streaks of pink appear on the early morning horizon of the Sto Lat Plains. He crushed out his cigarette and prepared to head back to the station to check out and then head back home for a good meal and a well-earned snooze.

He noticed a ship slipping silently beneath the great

Anhk-Morpork Bridge. She was the _Devil Wind_, the same ship he had seen sailing up the river several hours earlier. She'd obviously had an uneventful trip.

That was the way Fred like things, nice and quiet.

THE END

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